


Seven People Who Like Clementine Kesh

by fangirl_squee



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: F/F, Gen, spoilers for up to episode 23 of partizan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:15:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24857446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee
Summary: And several people whodon't.
Relationships: Clementine Kesh & Figure A, Clementine Kesh & Sovereign Immunity, Gucci Garantine/Clementine Kesh
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	Seven People Who Like Clementine Kesh

**Author's Note:**

> can you believe figure a can name seven people who like clementine!! Can you believe figure a is one of them!! I can't stop thinking about it!!

“Hold it higher,” said Sovereign Immunity, “Keep your elbows in.”

Clem huffed a breath, falling out on the stance entirely. “I  _ am _ .”

“No, you’re not,” said Sovereign Immunity.

He normally wasn’t so short with her - Clem did better when people kept up the pretense on respect for her station after all - but it had been a long morning of meetings with soldiers and farmers, and then an even longer afternoon of attempting to teach Clementine Kesh how to hold a defensive line.

Clem folded her arms, the broom handle she was using as a stand-in for her mech’s weapon poking out from her side awkwardly. “I just don’t see why I can’t practise in the mech. If someone of my calibre has to lower themselves to fight hand-to-hand combat, we’ve already lost.”

“I wouldn’t count out any situation,” said Sovereign Immunity, “And also, practising out of the mech makes you better  _ in _ the mech, and doesn’t take as much room or cause as much damage.”

“I do not cause  _ damage _ ,” said Clem, “I’m an excellent pilot.”

Sovereign Immunity resisted the urge to scrub a hand over his face. “You’re a fine pilot, princess, but you’re not…”

He trailed off, catching sight of the expression on her face. It was a very Crysanth expression, back when she had trusted him enough to let him see her unbridled rage. There was even the same line on Clem’s forehead, the way her eyes narrowed.

“Not  _ what _ ?” snapped Clem.

“Not as skilled at battling in your mech,” Sovereign Immunity finished neatly. “Being a good pilot and being a good pilot  _ in battle _ are different skill sets.”

Clem’s expression cleared, leaving an odd blend of irritation and confusion in its wake, a uniquely Clementine combination.

“It just takes practise,” said Sovereign Immunity.

Clem groaned, theatrical and a little childish. Sovereign Immunity scrubbed a hand over his face.

“I know you don’t want to hear it-”

“It’s just- what’s the  _ point _ ?” said Clem, “Practise can’t compare to innate skill. If I don’t have that, then practise is truly just a waste of everyone’s time.”

“I- what?” said Sovereign Immunity, “That’s not… it doesn’t work like that.”

Clem waved a hand. “You don’t have to spare my feelings about it, of course it does.”

“Uh. No, it doesn’t,” said Sovereign Immunity, “To do something well you have to practise it, who told you… Ah.”

Clem looked away, her cheeks flushed. “Obviously.” Her shoulders were tense, her free hand fluttering through the air as she spoke. “She’s right, of course, I-”

He almost reached out to put a hand on her shoulder before he thought better of it. “You really think she never practised?”

Clem’s head shot up. “I- Well, of course but she- it’s well-documented that she was always a highly skilled individual.”

“Clementine,” said Sovereign Immunity, gently, “who do you think wrote the documentation?”

Clem’s mouth dropped open, working silently for a moment. “But she… I’ve seen footage…”

“Of course,” said Sovereign Immunity, “But that doesn’t mean she didn’t practise to get there.” He cleared his throat. “And that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t either. So.”

Clem pressed her lips together, settling back into the stance. Sovereign Immunity nodded, mirroring her position.

“There, now, it’s up- and out,” said Sovereign Immunity, “Up, and out. Keep the motion smooth.” He watched her run through it a few times. “See? Now, when you’re in the mech it’ll be a bit different, but the basic move set will be there.”

Clem swallowed, her expression tight. “Yes. It will be.”

“Your highness, it doesn’t have to be- this isn’t a test,” said Sovereign Immunity, “this is  _ practise _ .”

Clem scowled. “I am practising.”

Sovereign Immunity let out a breath. “Keep your movements smooth, you want them to feel like they’re flowing into each other, that’s the kind of thing your mech is built for.”

She was still a little shaky, the lack of control easier to see than when she was in her mech, but the basics were there and the stubbornness was there, too. 

Sovereign Immunity nodded. “Good, that’s it.”

Clem blinked, surprise flickering over her face before the expression shuttered. She gave him a tight nod, her expression serious as she went through the motion again.

It wasn’t perfect, he thought, but she’d get there.

  
  


\--

  
  


_ Clem hustled them out quickly after a mission, barely even letting the medic team take a look at them before they were packed into the prison transport. Millie glared at her through the window, sticking her tongue out at Clem’s retreating back. _

_ “Ver’Million,” said Sovereign Immunity, moving to block her view of the window. _

_ “What?” said Millie, “She can’t see me, and even if she could, what’s she gonna do? Put me in jail?” _

_ Sovereign Immunity sighed, settling back in his seat. _

_ Through the window, Millie caught sight of Crysanth standing in the doorway, speaking to Clem. Clem’s shoulder slumped. _

_ MIllie rolled her eyes. Little rich girl. So  _ dramatic _. _

  
  


\--

  
  


Gucci didn’t bother to knock before she entered. Clem wasn’t likely to be doing anything particularly scandalous, and if she was then that was a bonus rather than a deterrent.

“ _ Gucci _ !” Clem shrieked, turning away. “I’m  _ changing _ -”

Her dress gaped open at the back, where Clem had obviously been struggling to reach the buttons. Gucci laughed. Trust Clementine Kesh to bring a gown to a revolution.

“You could have locked the door,” said Gucci.

“It doesn't have a lock,” said Clem sourly, still struggling to reach the buttons, “I asked them to put one on but they keep delaying it. Probably hoping that someone assassinates me in my sleep.”

“Now who would want to do that?” said Gucci.

Clem made a frustrated sound, turning towards her, but Gucci stepped forwards, putting her hands on Clem’s shoulder, turning her back around.

“Here, let me,” said Gucci.

Clem went very still under her hands. With the back of Clem’s dress open, Gucci could see the flush spreading down, following the line of her back before it disappeared under the fabric.

“Very well,” said Clem.

Gucci started with the lowest button, smirking at the hitch of Clem’s breath. The delightful thing about Clem was that, as much as she had been taught courtly graces, she was absolutely incapable of using them outside a formal ballroom.

“Why did you even choose to wear this dress if you couldn’t get it on?”

“I always had a maid to help me put it on before,” said Clem, fiddling with the flared cuffs of her dress.

“I’m surprised you didn’t bring your maids with you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Clem, “I couldn’t bring  _ maids _ to a  _ war _ .”

Gucci had just reached the buttons at Clem’s shoulder blades when Clem added, “I thought there would be someone here who’d help.”

Gucci couldn’t help it - she laughed. “Ah, yes, the maids of Fort Icebreaker.”

Clem twisted around, frowning. “I didn’t think there would be  _ maids _ , just… there’s always  _ some _ one.”

Gucci considered her for a moment. “I suppose there is.”

She pressed a little at Clem’s shoulders and Clem turned easily under her hands, letting Gucci do up the remainder of the buttons. Her hands lingered at the back of Clem’s neck.

“So,” said Gucci.

Clem turned her head, meeting Gucci’s gaze despite her flushed cheeks. “So?”

“How, exactly, are you planning on getting out of this dress?”

Clem’s looked at her for I'm under lowered lashes. Some courtly graces she  _ was _ well-versed in. 

“I… suppose you’ll have to help me.”

“I suppose I will,” said Gucci.

  
  


\--

  
  


_ “Here are my recommendations.” _

_ Clem leafed through the files. She was sure that they were all fine choices, but she’d been hoping for something a little more…  _ exciting _. After all, the Rapid Evening was to be an impressive tactical force. She let out a sigh, flicking through the stony expression of hardened criminals and ex-Kesh soldiers. It all felt very safe, very made-for-the-newsreels. She’d been hoping for a little more… style. _

_ Style, unfortunately, was proving difficult. Her mother had assigned an old admiral of her’s to  _ assist _ , and he’d  _ assisted  _ by attempting to take over every discussion and choice that Crysanth hadn’t already set. Now, it seemed, he was set to do more of the same, presenting her with a selection of men who seemed just as capable and as boring as he was. _

_ There was a flash of something in one of the photos, and she turned back, examining the mug shot. The man grinned back at her, easy and carefree despite the handcuffs. A.O. Rooke. Excellent mech results. Extremely long criminal record. _

_ Clem hummed. _

_ The admiral leaned forward, frowning. “Ah.” _

_ Clem arched an eyebrow at him. “Something to add?” _

_ “I… would advise against him as a first choice, your highness. He’s… more than a little brash.” _

_ “If you believed he was such a terrible choice, why include him in here at all?” _

_ “You asked for pilot scores to be part of the metrics,” said the admiral, “His… other qualities are not as desirable.” _

_ Clem hummed again. “Well. I suppose I will just have to be the judge of that.” _

_ She pulled out his file from the rest and set it to one side, feeling a thrill of victory at the twitch in the admiral’s jaw. _

  
  


\--

  
  


Tone had worked for Gucci Galantine for a while now. It was interesting enough work, secret and dangerous Horizon missions mixed with the usual cocktail parties and high class events, and even those occasionally had their moments.

Usually those moments involved Clementine Kesh.

“She’s staring at you again,” murmured Tone, keeping their voice to a low rumble.

Gucci gave no response beside the slight inclination of her head, shifting her feet slightly so that she could see Clem in the reflection of the tower of champagne glasses.

Tone scanned the room before their gaze returned to Clem. She met their gaze and immediately flushed bright pink, turning down to down the rest of her bright cocktail. Tone snorted.

Gucci stilled, her eyes flicking from Tone to Clem’s reflection. Tone kept their expression very still. They were paid to be a bodyguard after all not a relationship counsellor, especially when said relationship seemed to consist mostly of Clem staring at Gucci when she thought Gucci wasn’t looking.

Across the room, Clem was fiddling with the empty glass in her hand, nodding along to the conversation she was a part of, her attention obviously on Gucci.

Tone raised their eyebrows, and Clem’s cheeks flushed again. She stepped away from the conversation, and Tone suppressed a laugh at the surprise on the face of the person who had been speaking to her. They shifted their feet forward slightly, half-blocking Gucci from view of the rest of the room.

“She’s heading this way,” said Tone quietly.

A smile flickered across Gucci’s face for a moment before she managed to school it back into a neutral expression. She turned slowly, raising her eyebrows at Clem.

“Clementine,” said Gucci, “My, are you alright? You looked rather flushed.”

“Yes,” said Clem, “I’m fine, obviously.” 

She paused, glancing around in a way she clearly thought was covert. Tone stepped forward a little more, to block Clem from view as well.

“I… I didn’t think you would be here,” said Clem.

“You sent me an invitation,” said Gucci.

“But you never responded to it,” said Clem.

“I… Clementine,” said Gucci, her voice softening as she stepped towards Clem, “Of course I was going to come. I wouldn’t miss your birthday.”

Out of the corner of their eye, Tone could see Clem’s cheeks flush again as she ducked her head, the smile on her face matching Gucci’s.

“Yes, well,” said Clem, “You still should have responded. It’s very rude to ignore an rsvp, you know.”

Tone’s lips twitched as they suppressed another laugh as Gucci and Clem began to snipe at one another. Funny little girl, some of the time.

  
  


\--

  
  


_ Clem flicked through the reports that Sovereign Immunity had organised, more than a little bored. Tallies of weaponry, fuel, food (barely enough); rosters for guard duty (noting the places where they were stretched thin); lists of those assigned to pirate raids (Exeter Leap was on every list, which surely was not correct); a checklist of rations assigned to each person. _

_ Clem paused, reading through that particular list more slowly. _

_ After all, it hardly took into account how she, personally, did not care for fish stew, or that Leap would most likely require snacks during raids to remain functional, or that Mille developed an affinity for stealing her much nicer body wash. Sovereign Immunity’s personal preference for oat bread had undoubtedly been left off on purpose, as some kind of noble sacrifice on his part. Clem rolled her eyes. _

_ She scanned her eyes down the list. Gucci had requested several additional items. _

_ Well. If  _ Gucci  _ was going to do it. _

_ Clem made her corrections to the ration list and approved them, allowing herself a small moment of satisfaction before she moved on. _

  
  


\--

  
  


Zo’la adjusted the camera drone’s position, checking the viewfinder to make sure that the camera was still on Clementine Kesh, capturing her image in perfect clarity as she shook hands with the various refugees. This sort of footage would play well in a montage, or even as something to go under the audio of a talking head. Sovereign Immunity was visible in the background and, yeah, that was it, zo’d have him talking about this, a light music track underneath his words and the footage. 

“I… don’t know what you want me to say,” said Sovereign Immunity, later.

Zo’la kept the camera trained on him, zooming in slightly to capture his expression. “Just, something about Clementine Kesh, you know.”

“Something… about Clementine,” said Sovereign Immunity.

“Yeah,” said Zo’la, “you know, her leadership, her strength, her passion for the cause.”

“And you want me to say this about Clementine.”

Zo’la frowned, looking away from the footage to look at him. “Yeah?”

Sovereign Immunity ran a hand through his hair. “Sure, okay.” He paused. “She, uh…”

Zo’la readied their camera.

“She certainly thinks she knows what she wants,” said Sovereign Immunity, “and she’s improving, definitely, you know, every day she… what?”

Zo’la sighed. “I was kind of hoping for something with a bit more certainty. You know, like the princess does, talking about our glorious future, or whatever.”

“Maybe you should interview her instead?”

“I think I might have to,” said Zo’la, “She’s definitely better at knowing what to say for this stuff.”

“Yeah,” said Sovereign Immunity wryly, “She’s getting better at that, too.”

  
  


\--

  
  


_ Clem sighed, tapping her foot as she waited at the docks. This was  _ such  _ a waste of her time. _

_ “This is such a waste of my time,” said Clem. _

_ Sovereign Immunity gave her a look. _

_ “Of  _ our  _ time,” corrected Clem. _

_ Sovereign Immunity let out a breath. “No, I- it’s not a waste of time.” _

_ “It is,” said Clem, “I have other things I could be doing instead of playing delivery service for Gur Sevraq. Things that are a much more valuable use of my time.” _

_ “Yes but… it’s important that you, Clementine Kesh, help them out with this.” _

_ “I don’t see why,” said Clem,”what does it matter who delivers a banner to them?” _

_ “Because the banner is significant to the Prophet’s Sea,” said Sovereign Immunity, “and so it’s important who delivers it.” _

_ “Yes but  _ why _?” said Clem. _

_ Sovereign Immunity considered her for a moment. “Think of it like doing them a favour. Maybe later, when they’re planning something else, they’ll remember this favour.” _

_ “Kesh royalty don’t do favours,” said Clem, her voice hardening. “It sets a bad precedent. People think they can ask you for anything if you do  _ favours _.” _

_ It was a remarkably Crysanth opinion of her to have, which was undoubtedly where Clem had gotten it in the first place. Sovereign Immunity let out a breath slowly, choosing his words carefully. _

_ “I… don’t think that’s true,” said Sovereign Immunity. “Perhaps you could… think of this as a test case.” _

_ Clem looked at him. “A test case? For what?” _

_ “To see how people do react to favours,” said Sovereign Immunity, “after all, this is a different environment to the Kesh court.” _

_ Clem hummed. “I suppose.” She was quiet for a long moment. “It would be nice to prove Gucci wrong, I suppose.” _

_ Sovereign Immunity had no idea what she was talking about and absolutely was not going to ask. _

_ “Exactly,” he said instead. “So just think about that.” _

  
  


\--

  
  


Alise tapped her stylus against the side of her datapad. Her publisher was onto her again about her piracy romance book taking too long. They wanted something relevant, something  _ now _ , but they also wanted something that wasn’t a war romance.

“People want an  _ escape _ , Breka,” they’d said.

She sighed. A piracy romance  _ would be _ an escape, it would just take a little more time to finish if she wanted to get it  _ right _ . After all, that’s what drew people to the Renegade Hearts series in the first place, her attention to detail, and details took time.

She sighed, flicking through the channels on her newsfeed - most of it was too grainy to make for good inspiration, the footage too dark for people to want to see the romance there. A flash of pastel across the channel caught her eye and she flicked back. 

It was a memorial for the Kesh princess, flowers overflowing the tables that surrounded a portrait of Clementine Kesh. She looked a little different in the portrait than she had when Alise had met her. The Clementine she’d met had looked a little younger, her eyes a little sharper, and she had certainly never worn anything like the soft pink gown that the Clementine in the portrait wore.

Still, it was very touching. The young son of some Kesh general or other read a poem dedicated to Clementine, glancing every so often, misty-eyed, towards the portrait.

_ Ah _ , thought Alise,  _ that’s it _ .

A royal romance. It was in the moment enough for her editors, but removed enough people would love it, especially if she modelled the fictional royalty after one they knew, and  _ especially _ one modelled after one who had died heroically on behalf of Stel Kesh. The title came easily.

_ Tangerine Hearts _ .

Alise grinned down at her page. Perfect.

  
  


\--

  
  


_ “I just don’t think that you’ve thought about this all the way through,” said Valence. _

_ “Of course I have,” said Clem, “You’re the one who can’t understand what I’m saying.” _

_ “I understand  _ perfectly _ ,” said Valence, “You want people to do more for less.” _

_ “You make it sound so… so…” _

_ “Unfair?” _

_ “But it’s not!” said Clem, “They’re getting-” She glanced down at the datapad in her hand. “Well.” _

_ Valence huffed a breath. “Exactly.” _

_ “No,” said Clem, “No, you didn’t let me finish, I- of course they’re going to get more for doing more.” _

_ “That’s… not what you said,” said Valence. _

_ “Of course it was,” said Clem, swapping a few of the figures on the datapad. _

_ She’d have to make up the extra somewhere else down the line, but then Leap was always delighted at the prospect of doing more piracy. It probably wouldn’t be too difficult to ask him to add a few more missions to his calendar to make up the difference in supplies. _

  
  


\--

  
  


The Blossom carefully decoded Clem’s message, reading it through slowly. In a way, Clem messages to him were twice-coded - an actual code to stop them from being intercepted, and then in the way that they were written. Years of Kesh training had made it difficult for her to say what she truly meant, and even more difficult for her to ask for advice.

He smiled, his eyes scanning through the ornate turns of phrase to find her true meaning. Something about Sovereign Immunity, it seemed. Asking his advice on how to ask advice.

The Blossom huffed a laugh, and began his response.

  
  


\--

  
  


_ Clem cleared her throat. Broun looked over, raising their eyebrows as they saw her step towards Thisbe. They stopped where they were helping sort through the medical supplies in one of the crates to listen. _

_ “Ah… Hello Thisbe,” said Clem. _

_ Thisbe, looked down at her, bending slightly. “Hello.” _

_ “I… see you’re helping with moving the crates here.” _

_ “Yes,” said Thisbe. _

_ Broun stifled a laugh. _

_ “Yes, I- have you seen anything in them that would be unusual?” said Clem. _

_ “No,” said Thisbe. _

_ “Are you sure?” said Clem. _

_ “We don’t open the crates,” said Broun, a statement that would have been more convincing if they weren’t standing next to an open crate. _

_ Clem turned, giving them a look. “Is that so?” _

_ “Well, I mean, Thisbe doesn’t open them,” said Broun, “And I’m only opening them because someone told me too.” _

_ “Who?” said Clem. _

_ Broun shrugged. “Didn’t catch their name, they just wanted me to sort out the useful stuff from the junk in these couple crates.” _

_ Clem peered at the pile next to them. “You don’t look as though you have sorted much of it.” _

_ “Well, so far it’s all useful,” said Broun, “Most things are.” _

_ “Hmm, well, I… suppose I’ll have a look myself them,” said Clem. _

_ She looked up at Thisbe. Broun tried to signal Thisbe to give some kind of answer. _

_ “Okay,” said Thisbe. _

_ Clem made a face, and Broun upressed a laugh again. _

_ “Do you want a hand?” asked Broun. _

_ “No,” said Clem haughtily, “Thank you.” _

_ “Suit yourself,” saiid Broun. _

_ Thisbe paused, watching Clem make her way through the stacks of crates in the loading bay. “Is everybody from Kesh like that?” _

_ “The rich ones are like that no matter what Stel they’re from,” said Broun. "The trick is just to ignore them until you can leave." _

  
  


\--

  
  


Figure A stepped into the quiet cafeteria. Leap had said to meet there, to go through some of the things he’d gotten during his last piracy mission while he ate. They liked to help him with it, always lots of things to look over and catalogue, remember, identify.

The only person in the otherwise empty room was Clementine Kesh, picking at her plate of food as she scrolled through a datapad. She made a face each time she took a bite, clearly not enjoying the food.

She looked up as they got closer to her. “Oh, hello, you’re... Leap’s project.”

She looked behind them towards the empty doorway, confusion on her features for a moment before her gaze flicked back to them.

“I prefer Figure A.”

There was a faint blush on her cheeks. They filtered the image away, sitting next to others in their memory. Embarrassment, on her part. Different to the others they had filed away, less tinged with her proximity to Gucci.

“Yes, I- of course, Figure A.” She paused. “Would you like to join me?”

“I do not eat,” said Figure A, ”But I would like to sit with you.”

Clem’s expression twisted. “Then you would be the exception to the rule.”

They tilted their head to the side, waiting.

“I-” Clem’s hands fluttered through the air as she spoke. “There were other people in here, when I sat down, but then… well. Even Sovereign Immunity  _ had a meeting _ .” She sighed. “Childish, really. As though I don’t notice.”

Figure A let this information filter through too, to sit beside the other things they know about Clementine Kesh.

“Perhaps it is because you are often unpleasant,” said Figure A.

Clem gave them a sharp look. “ _ What _ ?”

They paused. “Just now, you referred to me as a  _ project _ . It was unpleasant.”

“Oh, well, I didn’t-”

“You did,” said Figure A calmly. “It was impolite, rude, dismissive.”

Clem spluttered. “Well, I- Well! You don’t have to sit here if you don’t want to, you- you came up to  _ me _ , so I don’t think-”

“I do not mind,” said Figure A, sitting down next to her. “It is very human of you.”

“I… don’t know if that’s complimentary or not,” said Clem, warily.

“It is neither complimentary nor insulting,” said Figure A, “It is a fact, a neutral piece of information to be interpreted as you wish.”

“And how do you interpret it?” said Clem.

Figure A paused. “Humans have been around for a long time, for both good and ill. Mostly, I have found you very interesting, particularly when you are trying to do good on a scale too large for you to comprehend.”

“I see,” said Clem slowly.

She took another bite of her food, her nose wrinkling at the taste. She glanced at them.

“They said there was only this left. It’s…” Clem sighed. “One must suffer, I suppose, during a revolution. I just wish that my tastebuds did not have to be the first to fall. At least since it came from the communal pot it's not likely to be poisoned."

Figure A paused, watching her for a moment. "You are very casual about being poisoned."

"I suppose I have become somewhat used to it," said Clem, "It is only when one assumes power that one is in danger of losing it."

She took another bite, pausing before she swallowed.

“You are lucky,” said Clem, “Not having to eat this dreck.”

“I suppose,” said Figure A. They paused. “Sometimes I wish I could. It feels like valuable information.”

“This certainly isn’t valuable,” said Clem.

“It is,” said Figure A, “All information feeds into the larger image.”

“You’ll just have to take me word for it,” said Clem, “This tastes disgusting.”

“That is because you do not like fish.”

“Yes but-” She broke off, her eyes narrowing. “How did you know that?”

“It is part of the larger image,” said Figure A.

“That… isn’t really an explanation,” said Clem. She paused, pushing the remains of her meal around on her plate. “That’s not exactly something that’s well-known. My mother- I was taught that I should like all foods equally. It makes you a better dinner companion.”

“I do not think you would be a better dinner companion if you liked fish,” said Figure A. “It would not change the fundamentals.”

Clem looked up, studying them for a moment. “I… You know, I truly can’t tell if you are trying to insult me or not.”

“I was not made with insults in mind,” said Figure A. “I was made to process information.”

“Ah,” said Clem, “The larger image.”

“Yes,” said Figure A.

She paused. “Do I… when you say larger image, am I… part of that?”

Figure A paused. On a smaller scale, she could be, if a few given values changed or were tilted in her favour. On the large scale of history however there were few individuals that were truly in focus. Clementine Kesh was no more than a speck, really. 

“Everyone is,” said Figure A, “We all make up the larger image.”

Clem paused, turning in her seat to look at them. “You know, you sound a little like Gur Sevraq.”

“They see things as a larger image too,” said Figure A. They paused. “Not as large as I have seen, but-”

Clem laughed, the bright sound echoing in the room. “Oh! Sorry, I- I didn’t think you made  _ jokes _ .”

“It wasn’t a joke,” said Figure A, “It was a fact.”

“Of course, of course,” said Clem, waving a hand.

They noted the way the tension had lessened in her shoulders, not leaving her entirely but- lessened. Their impact, one speck touching another.

Her datapad beeped. “Oh, I-” Clem let out a breath, the tension in her shoulders returning. “I’m meeting with Valence.”

Figure A nodded.

Clem stood up, taking a step away before she turned back. “I… I often eat here at the same time.”

Figure A nodded again. Clem made a frustrated noise. They tilted their head to the side.

“Would you like me to sit with you, next time?”

“Oh, well,” said Clem, “if you’d like to I suppose that would be alright.”

“Then I will see you tomorrow,” said Figure A.

Clem smiled, a flicker of genuine warmth before it was shuttered away. “Very well, I shall see you then.”

Figure A nodded, watching her disappear around the corner, leaving no trace of herself behind except the version of her in their memory files.

They ran their fingers over the edge of the table where Clem had been sitting, thinking, until Leap burst into the room, bringing with him a cloud of noise and movement.

"Hey! You're here early!" said Leap, "Give me a hand with this."

Figure A stepped forward. "I am not so early."

"Oh yeah?" Leap huffed, pulling the bag of machine parts closer to the nearest table. "What have you been doing?"

Figure A paused. "Considering the larger image."

Leap laughed. "Yeah? What about it?"

Figure A tilted their head to the side, their gaze drifting towards the table Clem had been sitting at. "It is… interesting. I look forward to seeing more of it, to see more context, get more information."

Leap grinned, throwing an arm over Figure A's shoulders. "Hey, that's why we're here isn't it?"

Figure A thought of Clem's small, bright smile, only in the world a moment before she had hidden it away again. A strange thing, to know they were all so small but, for a moment, not to feel it.

"Yes," they said, simply, and turned to help Leap with the rest of the crates.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi: mariusperkins on most places


End file.
